


When Life Gives You A Lemon Tree

by atamascolily



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Backstory, Botany, Character Study, Gen, Life on Tatooine, Luke is a Teenager and Acts Like It, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Slice of Life, Tatooine Ecology, domestic setting, moderate angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: Luke's unhappy home life as a teenage farm boy on Tatooine gets a little brighter when his best friend's girlfriend, Camie, gives him a tiny tree leftover from her family's business. It's meant as a joke, but Luke's surprised at how much he comes to care for it, despite everything.





	When Life Gives You A Lemon Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Much of this work is based off hazy memories of Alan Dean Foster's Episode IV novelization, as well as [deleted scenes from Episode IV itself](https://starwarsanon.wordpress.com/tag/camie-loneozner/), which show Luke meeting with Biggs Darklighter and other friends at Tosche Station.
> 
> I know Camie's actually dating some guy called "The Fixer" in the original script, but I've written Biggs and Camie together before Biggs' initial departure, with Luke somewhat attracted to Camie, but also jealous that she's crowding his relationship with his best friend, Biggs, because it parallels well with Luke's jealousy about Biggs' acceptance to the Academy. Like many real-life teen dramas, all these emotions are swirling under the surface and never explicitly voiced to anyone, but there nonetheless. 
> 
> Luke can also been a clueless teenager in other ways, and kinda obnoxious and I've tried to show that here. I don't think his home life with the Lars was very happy (not abusive, just tense and turbulent) so that's how I've written it here. 
> 
> I don't know if there are lemons in the _Star Wars_ universe or not, but I like lemons and they grow very well in Tunisia, where many of the Tatooine scenes were filmed, so I think it's not improbable to have them there. It was either that, or invent an entirely new fruit that would be based on lemons, and very lemon-like in all respects, so let's avoid calling a rabbit a "schmeerp," and just say that they're lemons, okay? Thank you. 
> 
> Since Tatooine has two suns, I assume it is similar in many respects to the desert regions on Earth, but significantly hotter. Citrus trees tend to do well in warm, dry climates if they have adequate water, but I expect that a lath house would be necessary for the trees to survive on a binary-star world (not to mention protection from sand storms). The ecology of Tatooine is also poorly sketched out in some areas and contradictory in others, so I've tried to do the best I can and assume that similar processes and niches from Earth carry over.

Luke Skywalker's bedroom in his aunt and uncle's underground farmhouse on Tatooine was, like most of the rooms, small and cramped, with tubed skylights to let the light and funnel any excess heat up to the surface where it belonged. The walls were clay and painted white, giving everything a slightly luminous glow, even in the darkness. 

Like most teenagers, Luke's room was a mess, although in his case it was not due solely to carelessness. Rather, Luke was so busy, running helter-skelter between the harsh, monotonous work of moisture farming and the endless equipment repairs, and his other, more interesting side projects. Despite his best attempts at clean-up, the two sides of his life shifted with alarming frequency, and often there just wasn't time to put things away again. 

Luke had learned by now that if you didn't work on something _the exact moment_ a break in Uncle Owen's regime appeared, you wouldn't have time for it all. Luke suspected that Uncle Owen did this on purpose, to keep Luke from daydreaming any fantasies that might get him off this miserable excuse for a planet - or, more importantly, the means to achieve them. 

Luke decided early on that he would do everything in his power to thwart his uncle on this and escape anyway. His room was an unfortunate casualty in the struggle.

So there were coveralls - white, white, or occasionally tan with stains on them - scattered about in various states of cleanliness. (Dark colors outside on Tatooine was tantamount to death by heatstroke if you were human, and wrapping yourself in layers was key to preventing sunburn. Still, there were fashions here, just as there were on every world, but Uncle Owen didn't believe in what passed for Tatooine fashions and they couldn't afford it anyway, so all of Luke's clothes were strictly utilitarian and therefore pasty and drab.) There were used holo cubes of all shapes and durations, featuring the latest Imperial propaganda and the occasional serial when he could snag it from the general store over in Anchorhead. There were machine parts and tools, fossils he'd found while trudging in the sands, sketches he'd made of designs that should have worked in theory and usually didn't. Models of ships and posters of constellations, helmets and old fake blasters he'd played with as a kid, learning tapes for celestial navigation and Droid languages - a good pilot needed to know everything and, Luke could say, at least in the privacy of his own mind, that he was a damn good pilot and getting better all the time. 

(He just needed an opportunity to prove himself, that was all and then he could tell that to _everyone_ and they wouldn't laugh at him. Then they'd see for themselves he was telling the truth, and offer him a way off this miserable backwater planet.)

Luke was particularly proud of his collection of womp rat skulls and pelts hanging in a disorderly jumble on the walls. He'd hammered nails into the clay, but they tended to slough out, causing the heavier skulls to be less than stable, with a distressing tendency to fall at random moments. They also attracted a great deal of dust, and tiny scavengers that gnawed away at the hair and bone, but the collection make Luke happy, so he refused to get rid of it when Beru complained. She'd eventually come around, but she was far from happy about them, and eyed them suspiciously whenever she peered through the doorway at him. 

He hunted the womp rats down in Beggar's Canyon in his T-16 skyhopper, and skinned and processed the carcasses all by himself. Owen raised his eyebrows and Beru wrinkled her nose in distaste when he came back to the compound soaked with blood, but they accepted the meat he brought without question. They were too poor to turn down protein like that, no matter its origins, and anyway, womp rats were not only pests, they were actively predatory. So Uncle Owen couldn't fault Luke for going out to "clean up the vermin" now and then, even if it involved piloting. Luke didn't have many victories in his perpetual struggle with his uncle, so this was an especially important concession. 

Aside from the tiny black scavengers that lived in the walls -they skittered away on insectile feet with chattering exoskeletons at the slightest hint of light, so they didn't bother Luke much - the only living thing was a small lemon tree in a white clay pot underneath the window that faced the compound's central courtyard. Unlike almost everything else in the room - and on the entire planet, for that matter, as far as Luke was concerned - the lemon tree was verdant and lush, boasting thick glossy evergreen leaves and tiny scented flowers that eventually transformed into yellow fruits a few months later. No matter how busy life got on the moisture farm, no matter how distracted he was with his other projects, Luke never neglected it. (It helped that he had strategically placed it right by his bed, where he saw it first thing in the morning, and couldn't ignore, no matter how much clutter had piled up.) 

It had started out as a joke. It was winter on Tatooine - which was hot and dry and clear and devoid of anything approaching cold, but it was cooler than the summer and that was what mattered here - and he had taken the speeder out to Tosche Station for an afternoon. Ostensibly, he'd come to pick up power converters, one of the few items Owen couldn't trade or construct in his workshop, and so had to be purchased. Luke took every opportunity to volunteer to do the pick-ups, so he could have a chance to linger in the courtyard of the store with Biggs, Biggs' girlfriend Cammie, and whatever kids from Anchorhead were visiting that day. 

At Tosche Station, he could spend a few credits of his meager allowance on snacks and drinks, and relax, laugh, banter with his friends. Compared to the solitude of the desert and the tensions that stalked the farming compound, it was paradise. 

"Hey, Wormie," Cammie shouted at him one day when Luke arrived, sweaty and out of breath and feeling less than suave. "I got somethin' for ya." She was sitting on the handmade brick wall outside the eponymous station - one of the original walls dating back from the settlement's founding, Luke was sure. Her boyfriend and Luke's best friend, Biggs Darklighter, leaned against the wall at her side and offered Luke a casual wave. 

Luke paused. He liked Cammie a lot, he really did, despite the fact that she insisted on referring to him as "Wormie". But she was Biggs' girl, and he didn't want Biggs to think Luke was poaching on his turf by being too friendly with her. 

He looked over at Biggs, who was rolling his eyes at his girlfriend's antics and waving him forward. "Come on, Skywalker, you'll like this." 

Cammie pulled out a bag and opened it, removing something small and green that Luke didn't recognize, and thrusting it at him. "Surprise, Wormie!" 

"What - what is it?" 

"It's from my father's greenhouse." 

"Yes, I see that." That much, at least, was clear. "What is it?"

"It's a lemon tree!" 

"Why are you giving it to me?" 

She pouted. "You know the old saw - 'when life gives you lemons'. That's totally you, right?" 

"What am I supposed to do when life gives me lemons?" Luke repeated. It was clearly some sort of joke, and he, just as clearly, wasn't getting it. 

_Thanks, Uncle Owen, yet another way you've kept me way too damn sheltered and isolated from my peers, so I can never fit in because I don't understand the damn jokes._

"Make lemonade!" Biggs said, wrapping his arm around Camie's shoulder. "When things go haywire, you just stand there, grinning like an idiot, and somehow it all works out. Most people don't. You look down on yourself, Luke, but just you wait, you're going to make it big someday." 

_Even if you got rejected from the Imperial Academy this year_ , Biggs was probably thinking right then, too. At least he was kind enough not to say it out loud. That particular failure was still a sore spot for Luke. Especially when Biggs had gotten in and was scheduled to space out for Basic Training in a few months. 

"What is lemonade?" Luke was still several sentences behind his friends and losing ground rapidly. 

"Come on, Skywalker, it's an off-world drink," Camie cajoled, clearly enjoying Biggs' embrace. She giggled a bit before pressing on. "We grow the trees in our lath house for the rich, the ones who can afford REAL flavoring - but there was this one little seedling left over and I thought maybe - you could - well - " 

He knew Camie's family was well-off - he just hadn't realized _how_ much until that moment. On Tatooine, where water was life and currency (no matter how many credits you had), to feed a single lath house took more water than Uncle Owen's farm scratched out in a good year, even with all the re-circulation that must be involved. 

For Luke, fresh fruit was a rare treat - mostly he ate dried, reconstituted versions that would keep forever if you kept the seal on the package intact. Most of the Lars' vegetables came from the algae tanks that Beru fussed over. It was bland and tasted stale, even when fresh from the tanks, but it kept you alive, it was cheap, it didn't require much water, and what water it did need could be re-circulated indefinitely. 

He still didn't know Camie very well - he'd had his eye on her for a while, but she'd gone for Biggs (all the girls went for Biggs), because he was dark haired and rugged, with an infectious laugh, while Luke was two years younger, fairer and perpetually awkward. He didn't begrudge Biggs his happiness, but it was hard when Camie tagged along, as she was doing now. 

And it didn't help that she called Luke "Wormie". He didn't know how to tell her to stop without offending her. He was isolated enough on his own without driving away what few friends he had. 

So even though he didn't know whether he wanted a lemon tree or not, or even what to do with one exactly, he took it, because a gift was a gift, and Camie was clearly trying to reach out to him even if the presentation wasn't going as smoothly as she wanted it. "Thanks," Luke said, and took the bag from her. 

She smiled at him. "You can't leave that outside in the heat. Put it in your room or some place sheltered, out of direct heat and wind. You don't need a lathe house for it, but it'll be happier if you can water it every day--" 

Luke had already planned on keeping the lemon tree in his room; he didn't want an excuse for Uncle Owen to mess with it. 

"--and seal the bag up when you're in the speeder, because it will dehydrate quickly with all the wind--" 

Camie was still explaining to him how to take care of her gift, and Luke wrenched his attention back to her. He didn't want it to seem like he wasn't paying attention. (Not that she was bad on the eyes or anything.... and this was the closest he was likely to get to a girl in years, so might as well make the most of it.) 

He took the tree back with him when he finally left forty-five minutes later, along with the box of power converters the shopkeeper had reserved for him behind the dusty, worn counter that had been his excuse for a trip out to Tosche Station in the first place. 

Uncle Owen wasn't pleased by this sudden drain on their water resources, but was overruled when Beru pointed out that the tree might very well grow lemons - which had all kinds of uses - and which they could always sell or trade if things went poorly. There was a lot of throat-clearing and nervous glances in Luke's direction at dinner that night - more so than usual - but in the end, Luke was allowed to keep the tree. 

Although he started out watering the lemon tree as a way to annoy Uncle Owen without _actually_ being disagreeable (and, more honestly, so he could tell Camie he tried), he quickly came to enjoy the activity for its own sake. To Luke's surprise, the tiny tree grew rapidly under his care, to the point where he was eventually forced to re-pot it a few months later. It grew and grew, until he realized that he needed to hack some of the roots now and then rather than move it to an even larger container, and then it settled down (more or less), producing delicate, sweet-scented flowers that swelled first to green and then to a delicate shade of yellow, brighter than either of the Tatooine suns.

He gave most of the ripe fruits to Aunt Beru - they livened up a bowl of womp rat chowder and bantha milk quite nicely - enjoying the genuine smiles she gave him when he strolled into the kitchen and slipped them into her hands. Beru was a quiet, kind woman, but decades of hard work and managing Owen Lars' temper had drained something from her, so that she very rarely smiled. She looked ten years younger when she smiled, Luke thought, with a pang. 

_I have to get off this rock before I end up like them,_ Luke thought one night at dinner as he watched them silently chewing, staring at their plates. He wondered which would be worse: Beru's passivity and disappointments or Owen's frustrations and disappointments. He probably leaned more towards Owen's rages than Beru's resignation, he finally decided. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought either way. 

But each time there was a harvest, he saved a few fruits for himself. After pestering Camie for specifics, he managed to make a credible version of lemonade. Once he was confident he wouldn't humiliate himself by making it too sour, he brought a batch over to Tosche Station for her to try. 

Biggs had left for the Academy by this point. They sat on the wall outside the station commissary and drank the precious liquid together, watching the heat-mirages crackle on the horizon in the blessed shelter of shade from the surrounding walls. Camie seemed genuinely impressed by his horticultural aptitude - which he was pretty sure was just dumb luck, he was really a pilot and not some sort of farming genius - but seemed pointedly uninterested in his overtures of anything more than friendship, and he let it be. He didn't blame her - given a choice between himself and Biggs, if he were in her place, he would have chosen Biggs, too. So instead they talked about Biggs' most recent letters, the political rumors swirling around these days about the Rebel Alliance's latest perfidy and what the news holos weren't saying, and all the local gossip. 

Then Camie had started dating a hotshot mechanic that everyone knew as "The Fixer," who was something of a bully, and she didn't have time for him anymore. Much to his dismay, she still persisted in referring to him as "Wormie" throughout it all, but now she was no longer nice about it. 

He still loved the lemon tree in spite of it all. He didn't realize how much until he was standing outside the wreckage of the farmhouse, choking on the oily black smoke that billowed out of every opening as fire raged underground, the charred and tattered bodies of the only family he'd ever known broken on the ground, everything engulfed in flames. 

He never even tried to go inside, to see what could be salvaged. A burning line in the sand divided his life into Before and After, and there was no going back to Before. The Empire had seen to that. Luke went to Mos Eisley space port with Ben Kenobi and from that moment on, his life belonged to the Rebel Alliance and the Force. 

Even when he returned to Tatooine years later, preparing for a mission to rescue Han from Jabba the Hutt's fortress, he kept his visit what remained of the Lars' moisture farm brief and never spoke of it to anyone. Leia knew, probably - Leia had a way of knowing things that Luke never told anyone else - but if she did, she never asked him about it. 

Later, after the war was over, when Luke settled into teaching the next generation of Jedi, he bought a lemon tree from a dealer on Coruscant and kept it in his quarters. Instead of dousing the juice with sugar, as Camie's recipe called for, he peeled the leathery rind away and ate the flesh directly out of hand, the sharp, acid standing on his tongue for a long time afterwards. 

He'd spent too long with pain to avoid the truth - that not all misfortunes could or should be avoided, and a Jedi must face the sweet as well as the bitter. Biggs had been dead for decades by that point, his atoms mixing in space with the debris of the first Death Star during that battle at Yavin IV so long ago. Luke had never seen Camie again after he'd left Tatooine with Ben. In all the chaos of the war and its aftermath, he'd never tried to reach out to her. Whatever bond they'd shared on that hot, stifling afternoon at Tosche Station, drinking homemade lemonade from Luke's tree, had long since evaporated. 

Yet one flush of the scent of lemon brought him back to those bright, shining days on Tatooine - and the treasured memories of friendships long since lost. 

Those days were over. But they had shaped him into who he was, and for that, he would never forget them.

Even in the desert, there could be fruit.


End file.
